


Revelations

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Kissing, Mild Sexual Content, Revelations, Sexual Tension, betrayed, jonsa, many emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: Sansa feels betrayed by Jon bending the knee to Daenerys upon their arrival to Winterfell. Yet this is only the start of many revelations to come to her that first day.(Connected to 'It's not right' but only in brief mention)





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> So this was totally not the oneshot I'm working on, this one I just spent three hours writing and now I must post because I am very proud of myself and I must share my pride and joy to all! That being said I really hope I got the characters right, especially Tyrion!! This is actually kind of my feelings towards what has gone on (when you read the dialogue). I hope y'all will enjoy!

 

 

 

Sansa kept her distance when they arrived. She was courteous as was expected of her, but she didn’t try to get to know Daenerys Targaryen and she avoided Jon as much as possible. Arya picked up where she left off, acting more the Lady of Winterfell than she was to which she was grateful for. Sansa couldn’t help it, she felt betrayed by him. How could he willingly give away their home to a foreign Queen? A Targaryen at that!? Honestly, she wanted to shake him as though that would bring back any sense to him if he had any to begin with.

Her chest felt cold every time she witnessed them interacting. Jon was usually stiff, but he never pushed away Daenerys attentions or her affection towards him. That probably hurt even more though she didn’t want to think too hard about why that is. Sansa figured it had more to do with him betraying her.

He betrayed her.

She pushed away her plate of food that had barely been touched as the thought rattled her even more. It wasn’t only that he seemed to turn his back on the North, that he gave away their home, but that all in all, Jon Snow betrayed Sansa Stark. He betrayed her absolute trust in him, the only man she could ever hope to trust again after Ramsay.

“You should eat,” Arya advised softly, voice lowered so only she heard her. Sansa took a small sip of wine then shook her head.

“I’ve no appetite,” Sansa mumbled back, her stomach rumbling uncomfortably. She could see her sister eyeing her, mild concern scrunching up her forehead. It was hard to eat when in their presence. Her eyes drifted over to the middle of the table where Jon sat beside Daenerys as they all ate. Her army had set up in the lands around Winterfell in encampments while only her most trusted advisors had a place inside the castle.

Her eyes caught sight of Tyrion who gave a slight smile towards her but she couldn’t return it. There was nothing she could smile for anymore, the only person she ever did was…her eyes glided over to Jon who wasn’t eating as well, his plate still full of food like hers. He looked bored for intents and purposes. Then his eyes connected with hers and a shiver went down her spine, abruptly she stood up almost knocking her chair down in her quickness to stand.

Sansa looked around to see a few looking at her almost anxiously, the bannermen looking as though they were ready to revolt if she were to say so. Arya frowned at her, pushing back to stand as well but she quickly waved her off. “I just need some fresh air,” Sansa stated quickly, pushing her chair back to the table and escape the many eyes upon her as she left the hall.

The air outside was crisp and icy, the wind blowing harder now than during the day. She pulled her cloak closer around her to keep warm though honestly the cold wasn’t bothering her all that much. The door behind her opened and she sighed. “Arya, I’m fine.”

“Then why are you avoiding me.” Sansa froze as she heard his deep voice, the light coming through the door disappeared as he shut it, plunging them into near darkness if not for the scattered about torches. Slowly she turned around to see Jon standing near the door, not approaching her and giving her space.

He looked weary, arms hanging loosely by his sides as she regarded him silently. Surprisingly he didn’t look cold though he lacked his cloak, he looked perfectly at home in the cold. He looked even better without his dragon Queen by his side.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Sansa finally said, turning away from him to look out to see the many torches of the encampment surrounding Winterfell. She heard the crunching of his boots on the snow that had fallen earlier as he came to her side. “You are more obvious than you think,” he stated gruffly, standing a mere foot from her as he looked out with her.

“You betrayed the North,” she said curtly, wrapping her arms more firmly around her to keep out more than the cold. She glanced at him to see a deeply etched frown around his eyes and mouth.

“I did what I had to do for the North.” Jon turned his head to face her. Sansa felt a twitch in her eye at his statement, anger bubbling beneath her skin as she turned to face him.

“Giving away our home is not helping the North.” Her words were spoken heatedly as she gripped her fingers into her arms to try and keep her anger in check. What was it about Jon that made her feel so emotional? What was it about him that brings out feelings and emotions she once thought were lost thanks to her time in King’s Landing and Ramsay Bolton?

“She wouldn’t help us otherwise! The Long Night is coming, Sansa and we need her army to fight the dead, there won’t be a North or Winterfell if we don’t have her and her army backing us up!” His cheeks were flushed, his eyes heated as he took a step towards her. She understood though she didn’t want too, but there was more than just that eating away at her heart.

“Fine, so you bent the knee to save us all, but did that mean you have to fuck her as well.” Jon flinched, his face looking guilty as he avoided her eyes. The look of guilt did nothing to satisfy her hurt, it only made it worse as what she thought was confirmed. Why did she feel so heartbroken? It wasn’t right. It isn’t right, Sansa thought. An echo of remembering herself thinking that back at Castle Black not so long ago.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, lifting his hand to touch her arm but she stepped back before he could.

“Nor do I want too,” Sansa announced coldly, taking another step back from him. “You made your bed, now lie in it, Jon.”

She turned away from him then, her eyes watering but she made sure he didn’t see. What did it matter what she wanted? She never got anything she truly wanted before now, even Winterfell wasn’t hers anymore because of him. She wouldn’t be surprised if she were forced into another marriage by the dragon Queen, or even forced to consummate with Tyrion to make that marriage true. As far as the Seven were concerned that marriage wasn’t annulled even if she had wed Ramsay Bolton.

Sansa wiped her eyes furiously as she took the long way around to her chambers to avoid any more people. She needed time alone to think and it’s only the first night. The weight of everything hung so heavily on her shoulders, trying to placate the other lords, figuring out their food storages, their money situation and even getting rid of Littlefinger; it all weighted so much on her, she felt as though she was drowning yet at the same time she seemed to flourish too. At least that was what Arya said of her upon watching her work, it made taking the burdens easier to know she wasn’t completely floundering.

She opened her door, stumbling back when she took in Tyrion sitting by the fire, sipping on some wine. He smiled at her as she entered, hopefully she had calmed down enough for him not to notice she had been crying earlier. Mild annoyance fluttered in her chest though at that sight of him in her solar. “Tyrion, let yourself in I see,” Sansa said in greeting, her interaction with Jon keeping the icy tone to her voice as she approached the smaller man.

She couldn’t be completely mean with him, he had been nothing but nice and considerate of her during her unfortunate time in King’s Landing. She couldn’t even think of him as ‘The Imp’ without feeling sick because he was so much more than his looks and stature portrayed.

“I am sorry about that, I expected you to be here when I knocked and when no one answered I…allowed myself in,” he said in his gentle voice, waving a hand to another chair to invite her to sit with him. Though she would rather be alone Sansa sat down in front of the fire, deciding to a small chat before sending him away so she could sleep off the hard emotions swirling around her head.

“I’m sorry but could we get the friendly necessities out of the way and get down to what you really want to speak to me about. I am terribly tired,” Sansa commented, not even having to foreign tiredness in her voice as she yawned. Tyrion smiled almost gratefully, nodding in agreement.

“No beating around the bush, I appreciate that in a woman,” he quipped before taking a generous sip of his wine.

“I’m sure you do.”

“I have something to inform you and another to discuss with you,” Tyrion started, setting his wine down to brace his hands on his knees. “First, I was able to get an annulment done on our marriage since it was not consummated.” Sansa felt a lightness in her chest as she nodded to his words. “That is good.”

“I heard of your second marriage,” Tyrion coughed, pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn’t give one, placing the emotionless mask she had grown use to upon her face.

“I hope that is not what you wish to discuss,” she said in a steady voice. He quickly shook his head. “I merely wanted to give my sympathy.”

“Your sympathy is not needed,” Sansa sharply replied, giving him narrowed eyes to let him know to stop while he was ahead.

“Right,” he nodded. “What I wish to discuss is about Jon actually.”

Sansa frowned, what did he want to talk about regarding Jon? The only relevant thing she could think of was his relationship with Daenerys. “And what do you wish to discuss with me that you cannot with him?”

“Forgive him,” he insisted. “Make him happy, I don’t care how but if he’s happy then Daenerys is happy.” Sansa clenched her teeth, her face hardening even more as she stared Tyrion down.

Thoughts and questions popped up in her mind as she contemplated about what he was saying. If Jon’s happiness equaled Daenerys happiness then his anger or pain would cause her anger or pain? The way Tyrion talked really spoke volumes more than what his words were. It wasn’t Jon they were truly discussing, it was the dragon Queen.

“For someone you want on the Iron Throne, you seem weary of her being unhappy,” Sansa stated evenly, watching her now ex-husband’s features. He frowned then looked towards the fire to avoid her gaze. “You can’t control her, can you?” He bristled at that, turning back to her with a stern expression.

“I’m her advisor, her hand, I can control her,” Tyrion declared, reaching over to gulp down some more wine. Clearly their talk was taking a toll on him.

“Then why must I forgive Jon for giving away our home and bending the knee? He’s Warden of the North now, in all intents and purposes my hands are free from anything and everything to do with Winterfell and its politics.” The look he directed at her next told her he didn’t believe a word she said.

“Behind every great man there is a greater woman pulling the strings,” he stated with a smirk. Sansa mirrored his smirk for a moment, thinking of her parents and how true that statement seemed to be, even in regards to her and Jon.

“So, who’s the one pulling the strings behind your dragon Queen?” she inquired as the smirk still edged her lips, his altogether dropped to a frown. “Tyrion, be honest with me, will she be any better than Cersei?”

The emotions fluttering across his face did not encourage her poor opinion of Daenerys Targaryen. Her tongue lashed out once more as she stood up above him. “You want to put someone on the Iron Throne that you are not even sure is going to be better than your sister?”

“She has a good heart, good intentions,” he starts but she cuts him off, “Oh because a good heart and intentions has not led to pain, death and sorrow. As my Lord father had said once, or twice, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. You can’t control her which means she is impulsive, you are weary of her being unhappy which means she is quick tempered and easily dissatisfied if things do not go her way. Am I correct?”

Tyrion closed his eyes and looked away from her, back towards the fire. That was her confirmation, her belly grumbled in hunger but she felt sick to her stomach. “Admit it, Tyrion, she fooled you. She made you see what you wanted to see so you would help her. She’s not a ruler, she’s a conqueror.”

“I can control her,” he finally barked out, pushing to stand as well as he brought his eyes back to her. “We are in a precarious position with war brewing and tensions running high, if you could just make Jon happy then everything will go smoothly.”

“If she can’t handle her emotions during time of war, how do you expect her to handle them in times of peace? War brings ugly out of everyone, but it also brings the brave and forces strength and humility. If Daenerys Targaryen cannot bring herself to feel that now then her reign will be our path towards hell.”

Tyrion said nothing after that, stared at her long and hard before nodding his head and leaving her solar. Her head hurt even more now, Sansa all but collapsed onto her bed, fully clothed and laid there hoping for sleep to claim her but it didn’t. All she could think of is how complicated everything had become, the wars coming their way and the repercussions that were sure to follow. The emotions she was feeling towards her half-brother, Jon. She cared more than she should, felt more than was normal between siblings. Were they Starks, or were they Lannisters?

The thoughts made her even more sick, forcing her at one point to dry heave into her chamber pot for a few minutes to no avail. She hadn’t eaten at all that day in preparations for the dragon Queen so there was nothing to truly bring up. Then there were the underlying issues regarding her other siblings, they may have faked most of it to trick Littlefinger, but there was a bit of tension between all three of them. Bran and Arya were so different now, she had a hard time wondering how she should interact with them. It was so much easier with Jon, why couldn’t that ease be the same with her younger siblings?

Sansa spent most of her night tossing and turning, going between tears of exhaustion and tears of disgust. The worst of it was that she had no choice but get up in the morning and deal with the day’s events, hoping for the best possible outcome as they prepared for The Long Night. That meant interacting with Daenerys and that left a sour taste in her mouth, especially after all the revelations last night with Tyrion. Though she’d rather not, it came down to the conclusion that she would have to follow through on his request.

She would have to forgive Jon, or otherwise things were gonna fall apart and fast. That was what Tyrion was saying without speaking the words, once more she would have to walk on eggshells around certain people in case they lashed out. It was King’s Landing all over again.

Sansa must have fallen asleep at some point but it wasn’t for long. Knocking on her door woke her, the almost mid-day light filtering into her windows told her she over slept. Why had no one woken her earlier, she thought, pushing up from her bed to smooth out her messy hair and the wrinkles in her dress. She still had not changed. Another heavier knock came to her door, forcing her to answer it as she was. There on the other side was Arya, she looked her up and down in surprise.

“You’re still wearing the dress from yesterday,” she stated in surprise, stepping around her to get in. Sansa shut her door, turning around to watch her sister.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” Arya arched a brow, bring her hands to clasp them behind her.

“Did you just get up then?” she asked as she chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Arya, I feel horrible, what is it?” Sansa questioned as she rubbed her forehead, her head just beginning to pound from her lack of sleep.

“Bran and Sam Tarly pulled Jon aside last night, after you left,” Arya started, going over to the window to glance outside then lean against the seal as she continued, “What I’m about to tell you is very important and could jeopardize everything.” The graveness in her sister’s voice chilled her spine, she locked her door then waved for her sister to follow her into her bedchambers, locking that door as well.

“What is it?” Sansa watched with apprehension as Arya slowly paced the room.

“Jon…Jon isn’t our brother.”

“What?” Sansa blurted, giving her sister a disbelieving look.

“He’s not our father’s son, he is our Aunt Lyanna’s son,” Arya stated stonily, stopping in front of her. Her heart started to beat rapidly inside her chest at the implications, if Jon wasn’t their sibling then the lords would be angered that he gave away the North without even being Ned Stark’s bastard.

“He’s the bastard of the wrong Stark,” she voiced breathlessly, grabbing the post of her bed to steady herself.

“Worse,” Arya gulped, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Sansa’s legs gave out, dropping onto her bed gracelessly, fingers digging into the wood of her bed post. He’s a Targaryen? He’s not their brother but their cousin and he’s…fucking his aunt. If she had anything in her stomach she would be ready to heave it at the thought. “He’s sleeping with Daenerys,” she mumbled in shock.

Arya scoffed in disgust. “I know; gross. But he’s a legitimate Targaryen, apparently Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell to wed our aunt so he’s not a bastard at all…he’s a prince.”

The weight of this knowledge was almost too much for her sleep deprived mind but she held it as much together as she could. Slowly she forced air through her lungs as she processed everything being told to her. “Are you sure, Arya?”

“Bran saw it and Sam Tarly has proof from the maester who annulled and legitimized the wedding. Father lied to everyone, even mother.”

“To protect Jon.” That was when thoughts of Jon came to her, what was he feeling? If she felt this distressed just learning it then how must he feel to know his whole life he was lied too? Her eyes watered at the pain and sorrow he was probably feeling and then for her to add more distress to him before that…Sansa breathed harshly then forced herself to stand. Her skin needed to be steel more than ever, she needed to be strong for them all and for Jon, most of all. “Where is he?”

“Who? Jon? I don’t know, I only learned this morning. Hey wait! Where are you going?!”

Sansa gave no reply, just unlocked her doors and raced through the halls ignoring greetings as she passed. There were only two places she could think of as to where he could be, either down in the crypts or the godswood. She figured going to the crypts first would be best, he might want to share a few words with their father; his uncle. She struggled to get the wick lit before descending the stairs as quickly as she could, the air was musky and cold. Her dress was a wool material that helped fight the cold but it didn’t help much. Goosebumps erupted over any skin that wasn’t covered as she finished her descent into the crypts.

Her footsteps echoed around her as she strode down the long hall, passing the statues of Starks since passed. They stared emptily on, watching her go by. The crypts use to scare when she was younger, even more so when Robb and Jon decided to play that prank where Jon was covered in flour and pretended to be a ghost. She gave him a wicked pinch when she found out later only after Robb and Arya coxed her from hiding under her covers in her bed. The only other time she visited had been when she was wed to Ramsay.

There was no light she could see and that made her heart fall. Maybe he wasn’t here? Still she made it this far, she should at least pay her respects to her father and brothers. She came upon their statues quickly enough, gazed between her father then her brothers. She hoped there was more to the afterlife than nothing as Jon had told her once, back at Castle Black. Her eyes drew over to the statue that represented their Aunt Lyanna, she never gave too much thought about her. Father had not spoken much of her, too pained to say more than she was wild like Arya who resembled her too. She also loved winter roses and fancied the songs and stories Sansa had growing up. The thought that she willingly married Rhaegar Targaryen made her realize how Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was started on a lie.

It was astounding how something so important in history was based upon a lie. How did no one know? Were they blind? What more was not told that caused the realm such grief and suffering? What more did her father take to the grave?

“I always wanted to know who my mother was…now I do…” Sansa jumped, whipping around to barely make out Jon sitting on the ground against the opposite wall. He had a candle beside him with the wick burned all the way down to nothing. She walked closer to illuminate him better, there was dark circles under his eyes while there was an emptiness inside them that eerily resembled the statues behind her. His hair was unbound, hanging limply about his face while his clothes had a light dusting of ice on them. Was he down here all night?

“Jon,” Sansa breathed, dropping to her knees beside him. Her candle was set on the ground as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into her embrace. After a moment his limp arms moved to wrap around her, allowing him to bury his face into her neck. She flinched at how cold his nose and cheeks were, he was freezing cold all over actually. “You’re freezing, were you down here all night?”

Jon merely nodded, dragging Sansa closer to the point that she was sitting across his lap now. He said nothing else though, just held her tightly for a long time then his shoulders started to shake. “Oh Jon,” Sansa mumbled sadly, running her fingers through his hair as she felt hot, wet tears land on the skin of her neck to seep into the neck of her dress. Before long his body retched with silent sobs and she held him to her, not letting him go. After everything was said and done, he needed her and if she were to be honest, she needed him.

“We’ll figure things out,” she said after his sobbing stopped and his body stopped quaking in sorrow. “You may not be my brother, but you are still my family. You are still a Stark.”

“But I’m not though,” Jon croaked into her neck, he lifted his head from her to gaze into her eyes. “My name isn’t even Jon. It’s Aegon Targaryen.”

“It doesn’t matter, not to me,” Sansa claimed earnestly, bringing a hand to cup his cheek and wipe the tears away with her thumb. “Nor should that change anything now.”

“But it does change everything, Sansa. Don’t you understand, I had no right to bend the knee to Dany or…” he made a disgusted noise as she was sure he thought about what else he did with her. She moved her hand from his cheek to lovingly push back his hair from his face then leaned forward to press a warm kiss to his forehead, lingering for as long as she could.

Upon pulling back she found him gazing at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Her breath hitched in her throat at the look as heat flooded through her body, warming her in ways she thought she would never feel again. The realization of what all this meant in regards to her feelings towards Jon were not lost on her either. She tried not to think about it because in the scheme of things it was the least important thing to think about, but now with him in her arms while she was perched across his lap it was the only thing she could think of. They were cousins, related, but not as closely related as she once thought. Not even as closely related as Jon was with Daenerys after all the inbreeding the Targaryen’s were known for.

Her heart started beating faster in her chest as they gazed at each other, the cold seeping away to give into the heat that was building between them. Sansa felt her lower lip quiver when she noticed Jon glance between her eyes and her lips, he’d done that before hadn’t he? Right after he kissed her forehead that felt like eons ago. Neither of them moved for a long minute, bated breath between them then it was Sansa who broke it. It was Sansa who forced all propriety out the door, saying fuck it and it was Sansa who closed the gap between them, pressing a loving kiss to Jon’s lips.

It was like a dam was broken between them, any and all feelings and emotions once feeling so taboo rushed from them, encompassing them as their lips meshed and moved together. One of her hands continued to comb through his hair while the other gripped the back of his neck to keep him there with her as though she expected him to pull back and run. It was Jon who turned his head and licked across her bottom lip, getting permission to run his tongue along her own. Twisting and turning within her mouth, battling her tongue before she forced his back into his mouth where she gave chase with her tongue. Jon’s hands moved up and down her back, creating shivers through out her body at his touch.

Sansa maneuvered her legs so she straddled his waist, pressing down upon the heated, hard point between his legs as they continued to kiss. It was wonderful, it was everything she had wanted and more. Jon erased everything from her mind, the throbbing in her head all but disappeared, the worry and anxiety that weighted so heavily upon her shoulders alleviated and all from his lips and touch. Nothing seemed to matter at the moment, the whole world could be freezing away, or burning to the ground and they would not have noticed. Winterfell could collapse upon their heads this very moment, crushing them to death and Sansa could not care less as long as Jon was in her arms, his lips attached to hers.

Swiftly Jon flipped around, pressing her down onto the cold, hard ground as he leaned over her. His lips slipped from hers to press lingering, wet kisses to her jawline, under her jaw, to her neck where Sansa stretched her head as far back as she could to give him more access. He littered kisses upon the column of her throat, nibbling on her collarbone once he moved down. Her breasts were thrusted up as she arched when his hips pressed between her legs, sending waves of pleasure tingling through her nerve endings. She had never felt that before, it was breathtaking as she relished the feeling as he continued to drive his hips into hers. His trousers and her dress a barrier between them as he pressed his cock into her.

Sansa dug her heels into the ground so she could thrust up against him, gaining a groan from Jon’s lips. Gasps and pants escaped her open lips then his lips were on hers, quieting her as they continued the strange, pleasurable dance they were engaged in. There as a building of tension in her abdomen that only got stronger the more Jon’s cock rubbed and pressed down between her legs. Sansa’s nails scratched down his back, leaving behind marks in the leather of his doublet. Each thrust brought her closer to breaking, it was intense, almost too much but she couldn’t pull away.

The soft, raw rub of his tongue against hers along with a hard press of his hips pushed the tension over and breaking. Tingles erupted throughout her nerve endings causing her legs to shake uncontrollably, her hands to clamp down on his hips to force him to continue his thrusting. It prolonged the pleasure she felt, goosebumps bursting to life on her skin as sweat dripped from her hair line. Jon pulled from her lips to bury his face into her neck, muffled groans came from his lips as he thrusted harder against her a few more times then slowed down before stopping altogether.

Both of them were breathing harshly, Sansa could feel her heart beating rapidly in her throat while also feeling Jon’s through their touching chests. Every breath caused his hips to press down on her, with every exhale it triggered lingering aftereffects of pleasure to jolt through her body. Her muscles were tense, bracketing his hips and legs, and it felt so right. The whole moment felt completely right, she didn’t know if it was because of the revelations, or just the fact that they decided to stop letting things get in the way of what they wanted. Sansa wasn’t sure, only that it felt completely and utterly right to be lying here on the cold ground of crypts with Jon laying upon her and between her legs. Her hands tighten upon his body as they slowly came down from their highs.

Once their breathing slowed she felt nothing but heat between them though the sweat running down her hairline and other places were drying cold from the crypts, and as she laid there on the ground she was starting to feel the coldness upon her back seep through. Jon’s face was still buried in her neck as he caught his breath, it felt nice to hold him to her though. His weight was more than welcomed in comparison to some of the things she had weighing on her before.

“We’ll have to leave the crypts eventually,” Sansa muttered quietly, her candle growing dimmer the longer it burned. She glanced over to see it was at half its length, wax melting onto the ground from the holder.

“I’d much rather we never did,” Jon mumbled into her neck, a chill ran down her spine at the feel of his breath on a sensitive part of her neck.

“Jon,” Sansa chided softly but made no move to force him off her, actually she wrapped her arms more securely around him instead.

“I don’t want to go back to reality,” he said sadly, his hands going under her shoulders to hold her to him. She knew what he meant, down here it felt safe. They just kissed and did whatever that sexual thing they did, she’d have to ask him about that later. They clearly passed over some lines in their relationship, it was scary yet freeing all the same. “What should I do, Sansa?”

“You continue doing what you were,” she stated almost blandly, a painful thump beat in her chest at the thought of him going back to Daenerys. Jon pulled back from her neck, releasing her shoulders to push up so he was above her so their eyes could connect.

“After everything that has happened, the knowledge and what we just did…I cannot go back to her, I don’t think I could even look her in the eye much less…” Jon travelled off, rolling to the side from her to stand. He reached out a hand for her to grasp and pulled her to her feet as well.

“We don’t have a choice now. If anyone else finds out about your heritage things will get ugly,” Sansa squeezed his hand reassuringly as she continued, “Tyrion came to talk with me last night.” Jon immediately frowned, keeping her hand tightly in his.

“And?” he urged.

“He said to forgive you.” She watched as surprise and then apprehension came to his face, he eyed her worriedly as he asked, “And do you?”

Sansa snorted, shocking both of them; the wasn’t very ladylike. “What do you think?” Jon pursed his lips though his eyes looked lighter, less worried. “I’m still not completely happy with you, but I do forgive you, all things considered. He also said to make you happy so she would be happy.”

His lips fell to a frown again, shaking his head as he used his other hand to rub the bridge of his nose. He seemed reluctant to release her hand, not that she minded. “She wasn’t completely with our cause, she still wanted to go to King’s Landing. I noticed she was falling for me, I thought if I gave her something to live for then maybe she would see things my way.”

“It seems to be working,” Sansa noted, trying to keep any hurt emotions inside though she felt something she had not felt in so long. She felt jealousy.

“Too well, I didn’t think up an endgame only how to keep her attention on our cause,” Jon stated glumly, suddenly pulling her to him where their joined hand was caught between their bodies as his other arm wrapped around her waist to hold her. “I don’t know what to do after the war.”

“She’ll expect you to stay with her, unless she finds out about your heritage then you would have a bigger claim to the Iron Throne.” Jon pulled back from her, releasing her hand so he could cup her face with both of his, directing her attention fully on him.

“I don’t want that damn throne, I want to stay here in Winterfell with Arya, with Bran and…with you.” The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Slowly he brought her face to his, their lips pressing softer and gentler than their previous kiss. He lingered for a moment longer then pulled away to press a kiss to her forehead.

“We’ll figure something out, Jon. I won’t let her have you, not without a fight…”…

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was on the fence of them having full blown sex right there...in the crypts...in front of daddy dearest, lol. So I went for a mid-way point, actually it was suppose to kind of end at the forehead kiss but I kept writing and that is my story and I am sticking to it! I dunno if I will be doing a continuing oneshot after this, I don't want to make any promises because I work fulltime and school fulltime, and I feel the minute I make promises I procrastinate with my writing. I do though have an idea of where to go after this, but I will not make promises about if it happens.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed and please let me know if I did these guys justice! I am excited about how quick everything came to me! What's even funnier is how this was not what I was suppose to be writing. My original idea (which I will write) has nothing to do with what came out so I guess I am feeling some sort of way right now and it transferred in my writing??? Lol, thanks for reading!! ^_~


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